In Fair Alexandria
by ohdaito
Summary: "Our proposition is this, Mr. Raleigh. There is a neighboring community, but fifteen miles away, and we would like to send you over there to form a trade agreement of sorts." Aaron/Eric first meeting AU story.
1. Chapter 1

Eric placed a gentle hand on his stomach. Through the thin blend of his torn button up shirt, pushed to his elbows, he felt he could almost feel the pain of hunger inside of him.

 _How ironic,_ he thought bitterly, looking around him. He stood in the middle of a small, old mattress store, _his home_ , and to his left and to his right lived a family of five in a maternity store and a quiet couple in a college sports shop, and down the hall lived three dozen or so more people, all making a once bustling and popular mall into their community, their place of living – their place of _surviving_.

Bethesda Shopping Center.

After the Great Infection had spread, as a few of their older residents referred to the outbreak as, many residents of the town had sought out safety and security at the local mall. Whether it was because of the resources, or to find friends and family, or simply because it seemed the most stable establishment around (as was Eric's reasoning), they hadn't been so inclined to leave. Nearly eight months later, along with ten new people, they were living relatively easy lives.

The mattresses from the store that Eric had been given were spread around the small mall, to each little boxed home as were needed. Clothing was in abundance from the specialty shops and department stores. The local big box store supplied them with food and water. Bookshops, game stores, and art emporiums entertained them. For a long time, the community wasn't only surviving – they were thriving in this new world.

The glass windows, the once automatic sliding doors, and any entrance or exit had long since been boarded up, the steel nails glimmering in the artificial light of day and the wood creaking in the winds of the night. The only way out was a back door loading dock, heavily guarded by a man and a woman with matching machine guns. No one ever left.

Their council of leaders, three men and two women, handled the community with a strict hand. All the supplies from the stores were rationed in the beginning and kept in a large safe. Only the council members had access to the safe, and with tight, reassuring smiles, promised the people complete transparency. Just yesterday, the community held a forum and declared proudly that after eight months, only a fourth of the rations were gone. The people of Bethesda had cheered and sighed with relief, but wondered idly why their stomachs rumbled. Councilman Jakobsen had nodded along to the speech and tore away at a bar of chocolate.

Eric fell to his bed and closed his eyes. A stack of books a mile high by his bedside offered no comfort to his growing hunger. Locked up in a small, limited mall for the past half year had cut his once energetic and all-consuming mind to dust. He had even taken to collecting to designer labels, tacked to a small bulletin board across from his desk. How he longed for electricity.

His home was larger than some of the other stores, but sometimes he wished it wasn't; in Bethesda, he was the only single member among a collective of families and lovers. Most days the loneliness ate at him until it was a battle to smile at his neighbors, to get out of bed, to wake up at all. His few friends kept him occupied and as happy as he could be, under the circumstances. But most days, most nights, it never seemed enough.

His mother had died years ago, and Eric wondered where his father was – if he was with his wife, or alive, or alone. The miles between Bethesda and his childhood farmhouse stretched thinner and further every day. Sometimes he wondered of what he would find if he ever ventured into the Outside, or what he would find if he returned home. He wondered if he really wanted to know.

His thoughts had taken on a deeper, existential tone as of late.

Suddenly, a sharp knock to his door echoed around the room. Sitting up in bed slowly and rubbing at his bleary eyes, Eric rolled his eyes and hoped it wasn't Hirano with another useless label he thought was designer. It would be the fourth time this week alone.

Instead of Hirano, whom suddenly Eric would've preferred, one of the councilwomen came striding confidently into his room, a clipboard at her side and her hair pulled into a strict bun at the top of her head. Her face was smooth despite her age, free of wrinkles and free of laughter.

"Mr. Harmon - " she started, ignoring Eric's soft guffaw at the use of his surname, "your presence is requested at Councilman Jakobsen's office. We have something we would like to talk to you about."

After a moment's pause, Eric quickly climbed off his bed and pulled on his shoes, his skin crawling with the eyes of Councilwoman Ross at the back of his neck. She was tapping her foot and glancing disdainfully around herself, silently observing Eric in his personal habitat like he was a caged animal. "Hurry, young man."

Soon the two of them were climbing the stairs to the upper level and Eric was glancing down the front of his shirt, wondering if he was too dirty to be in the presence of Bethesda's own quasi-government. The woman ahead of him was styled delicately in a blazer and dark jeans. Somehow the ensemble, though both of their clothing came from the same outlet, was that of a leader and his own was of a common worker. She strode three paces ahead of him and her nose pointed north to the deafening silence against which they cut through. Eric could feel pairs of widened, confused eyes on the two-man march through the halls of their community. He felt small, vulnerable, and realized he was following not only a leader, but following a leader into a room full of people with power, all of whom wanted something from him. The thought nearly shattered his bones and turned his legs to stone.

The door to a back office was just ajar. Soft, murmured voices drifted towards Eric's ears, and he listened as the voices dimmed as their footsteps grew closer. The councilwoman ushered him in impatiently, tapping her finger against the door handle. Eric wondered briefly if she would soon run out of body parts to tap at him. He shuffled in, pulling at the bottom of his shirt anxiously. He hadn't any reason to be afraid, but he found himself shaking. Four still, unmoving dignitaries sat around a small desk table, comically small, but laughter came easily not to a throat stifled by tremors. Silence greeted him like a drop in a cold lake.

"Ah, Mr. Harmon," Jakobsen said, raising a hand to welcome him in. Slowly, Eric stepped further inside and sat down at the seat he gestured to. "Thank you for joining us for this quick chat."

Eric nodded stiffly and wrung his hands in his lap until the skin hued a dark pink.

"First off, how are you enjoying your home?" Jakobsen asked, eyes blank and cheeks pale, leaning back in his seat. Eric cleared his throat tersely, but quickly felt the words dissolve on the tip of his tongue as Jakobsen interrupted him with a calculating nod. "You were one of our very first residents, Mr. Harmon. We haven't so easily forgotten that! And time and time again, you've proved yourself to be a very useful asset to Bethesda. Single-handedly distributing the mattresses to our people? Now that was a kind, generous act."

Eric nodded once more.

"And you currently live in that mattress store, don't you? That's an awful big space for just one person – awfully big."

The other councilmembers stared him down in agreement.

"We originally wanted to give it a bigger family," Jakobsen continued, as he rummaged around in his jacket pocket. "But we felt you deserved a large room, too. We have made accommodations for you, Mr. Harmon, that we have not made for anyone else." And after a seconds pause. "Do you like your living space, Eric?"

Startled at the sudden use of his given name, Eric stuttered out a short yes and looked away. Five pairs of narrowed eyes tracked his twitchy, nervous movements like a radar.

Jakobsen smiled. "It has been a wonderful eight months with you by our side."

And Eric couldn't help but roll his eyes just the smallest bit – he was never once by their side, nor them his. They were a politburo, and Eric, along the populous of Bethesda, had never been allowed access into their circle. Not since the very first day, as families huddled together in fear and Eric sat alone clutching his own arms for warmth, did Jakobsen allow for more of their participation. But before anyone could declare their willingness to lead, Jakobsen had already chosen his four closest companions to join him in Bethesda's council. And it had been this way ever since, and no one ever complained.

With an unexpected bout of confidence, Eric looked up and asked Jakobsen directly, "What is this meeting concerning? Have I done anything wrong?"

Jakobsen chuckled and pulled a candy bar out of his pocket. Eric watched with wide eyes as the man continued to laugh quietly to himself as he gorged on the chocolate, and his stomach clenched almost painfully.

"Quite the contrary, boy."

Another one of the councilmen cleared his throat. "Ah, Mr. Harmon, we have a request for you. We will tell you forthwith, but if you'd like, please take a day to think it over before making your decision."

Eric's head began to throb. It was unheard of for the council to ask for favors – even rarer that they would come to him. They had made it quite clear in the past that Eric's talents were purely domestic; he was never selected or even expected to pull the brunt of the work when other, more capable residents were around. Not even proving his strength by moving mattresses around the mall had ever given way to more respect – at least, not until this moment.

The councilman shifted in his seat and pulled out a small handful of dirtied papers. "Mr. Harmon, what would you say is the status of our food supply?"

Eric once more placed a steady hand on his stomach, but replied, "Yesterday you told us we still had more than half left."

Jakobsen coughed and crushed the candy wrapper in his hand. "Listen here, Mr. Harmon. Sometimes leaders have to… _stretch the truth_ a bit to conserve the wellbeing of his constituents. Why, if we told Bethesda we had no food left, don't you agree it would most negatively affect the overall safety and sanity of our people?"

Eric was nearly rendered speechless. "Are you saying… we have no food left?"

Jakobsen leaned forward and crossed his arms. "Our proposition is this, Mr. Harmon. There is a neighboring community, but fifteen miles away, and we would like to send you over there to form a trade agreement of sorts. We have such a surplus of so many other goods – clothing, entertainment, and the like. But what we lack, what we have gone through so quickly, is – yes – food."

Before Eric could even comprehend his words, the other councilman continued nervously, "We have already initiated contact with this community weeks ago. They are willing to set up an agreement, but would like a representative other than ourselves to meet them. We need this, Mr. Harmon. We need someone to establish a reasonable level of trust between our two groups."

Eric was stunned. "We're out of food… and you want me to travel fifteen miles away – alone! – to another community to set up a trade agreement?"

The man looked relieved that Eric understood so quickly. He wiped a red hand across his forehead to rid his paper skin of his nervous sweat. "Exactly."

"Why me?"

"You're a reliable representation of our great community! And you worked at a peaceful non-governmental organization in the past, am I correct? You are already equipped with the tools and techniques needed to mingle with other peoples," Jakobsen said.

It was so much to take in. His headache threatened to split his mind in two – it was only twenty minutes ago that Eric had been complaining about his boredom, and now, here he was, cornered into a precarious decision by five wolves with flashing red eyes.

"I don't think I'm the right man for the job…" Eric started anxiously, looking down.

Jakobsen sighed and stood, circling the room with the air of a man aware his fate was in the hands of another. "We have been very accommodating to you. We provide you with a home, with food, with a strong, solid community in which to share. But we are small in numbers. This you know. We do expect our residents to carry their weight and support us, each other, and Bethesda, if there be need. And, Mr. Harmon, there has never been more of a need."

Eric thought of his hunger, the ache in his stomach and the weakness of his movements. He thought of his friends, the families, the children, that were suffering the same as he. An opportunity had made itself available – one that would save Bethesda and its people. Despite the poor leadership and care the council had given towards the residents and towards the supply rations, something had to be done to fix their wrongs. He could never have said no.

"Okay. I'll do it," Eric murmured quietly.

"Fantastic!" Jakobsen exclaimed immediately with a sharp slap to his shoulder. "You are doing us a great service, Mr. Harmon. We will not forget this."

Eric couldn't help the shaking of his hands in his lap, nor the wavering of his voice when he asked, "What is the name of this other community?"

Jakobsen reached down and placed a detailed map on the table in front of Eric. A bold, red line traced his route and a circle marked his endpoint; a river, two highways, and a plethora of meaningless black lines would Eric follow for fifteen miles until he finally reached –

"Alexandria," Jakobsen said, and clapped him on the shoulder once more.


	2. Chapter 2

"But by yourself?" Hirano asked softly.

The bed creaked under Eric's weight as he sat down stiffly at its foot. His muscles were sore from the exertion of packing for his travels – his body was weaker than it had ever been. Rations were nearly nonexistent. The last of the food had been passed around that morning – Eric's breakfast had consisted of a single can of tangerine slices, and half of it had been sealed and put into his backpack for the fifteen miles ahead of him. Alone.

"Yes, by myself," Eric responded, voice equally quiet. Bethesda, and its residents, had all been quiet as of late.

Hirano sniffed and glanced around Eric's home. Many things remained – blankets on the bed where they now lay, his bulletin board of labels, and his stack of books on his nightstand. But the room had an air of abandonment. Though Eric's journey would last only a week, it felt as though he would never return.

"You know, it's weird," Hirano started, fingers pulling at the black hair at his neck.

"What is?" Eric asked over the groan of his stomach. His backpack was nearly full – ropes, cans of food, the map, blankets, a tent, a sleeping bag, a flashlight. Soon, before he left in a few hours, he would have to retrieve weapons from the council.

"We have no idea what's out there."

Eric chuckled humorlessly. "No idea whatsoever."

"I guess the council has done a pretty good job of protecting us."

The sun was beginning to set. The butterflies in Eric's stomach had grown into monsters, and they clawed at him from the inside out. As the shadows extended around the mall, the shadows across Eric's face grew, as well.

"Protection has nothing to do with it," Eric muttered, voice thick. "I'm walking out that door completely blind. They've sheltered us, not protected us."

He had never felt so afraid in his life. When he had first arrived to Bethesda, he had only come across a single Halfer. He had fallen onto his back and wrested with the half-human until finally a stranger had driven a hammer into its head. The blood that had splattered onto Eric's face had never really been washed away. And eight months later, with not even one Halfer kill under his belt, Eric felt completely, totally unprepared.

Hirano was silent for a moment. He grabbed Eric's hand from across the bed and squeezed gently. "I know you're freaked out. I'm fucking freaked out, too. But you're doing such a good thing for us. How can we ever repay you for that?"

Eric's vision swam but he managed a self-deprecating chuckle to escape his lips. "You can repay me once I get back. I've had my eyes on your faux fur blanket for ages."

Hirano twisted his hand playfully. "You ain't ever getting that thing, Harmon."

A knock sounded at his door. Eric hoped it wasn't Councilman Ross asking him to travel to Alaska instead, because his heart could not take a distance over fifteen miles at this point.

Instead it was the Erickson family, Maria, the mother, and her two children. They entered with gracious, small smiles at the scene before them. In the children's hands were a pile of blankets and Ziploc bags.

"Hi, Eric. Hi, Yuuto," Maria greeted gently, ushering her children forward.

Eric patted his bed and the two kids jumped onto it, bouncing for a moment before settling down. Maria laughed softly before approaching herself. "Eric, we just wanted to give you our appreciation before you left."

"Oh, Maria, it's –"

"Eric, please. Everyone in Bethesda is so grateful for what you're doing! So much, in fact, that we put together a couple of things for your travels. Kids?"

Her children thrust their arms forward, presenting a wide array of materials, between blankets, more food sealed nicely in bags, booklets on camping, a stuffed animal, a raincoat, and lying neatly on top was a simple card, signed by everyone in the community. Eric felt his eyes blur with tears.

"Knowing that when you return, my children won't go to bed hungry anymore, well… you know. We're all so grateful, in any case," Maria murmured faintly, and played absentmindedly with her daughter's hair. "Be safe, Eric."

"Of course," Eric choked out. Hirano sniffed softly and for a single moment the three shared a beat of silence, just a moment – soon, Eric knew, Maria would leave. Hirano would squeeze his hand one final time before following Maria out. And in two hours, the gunmen guarding the exit would usher him outside, into the _Outside_ , and the warmth Eric had taken for granted would be torn so cruelly from him, leaving him with nothing but his fear and the cold. He would be alone.

"Hey," Maria's daughter murmured, gesturing to the stuffed dog on the pile of items, "this is Tubby. He's my dog but he can keep you company when you're gone."

Eric pulled the girl gently into his arms. "I'll keep very good care of him."

"He'll take care of you, too," she whispered. Eric nodded against the girl's hair but didn't respond – couldn't respond, couldn't even find his voice. It had hid itself down by the monsters in his stomach.

"Sometimes I get scared at night, but then I just hold onto Tubby really, really tight. Then everything's okay," the girl whispered in his ear, glancing at her brother. "Don't tell Sam because he'll make fun of me. If you get scared, hold Tubby, okay?"

"If I get scared, I'll hold Tubby."

 _Eric,_

 _We will be counting down the days until you're back! Be safe out there. You're our hero!_

"Ah, Mr. Harmon, welcome," Jakobsen greeted, pulling Eric into his office by the fabric of his jacket. "I was just thinking about you."

"I see."

Jakobsen sat down at his desk and Eric opposite him. Unlike a day ago, it was only Eric and Jakobsen in his office; the rest of the council members, Eric saw as he ascended the stairs, were occupying themselves rather poorly with other meaningless tasks. Perhaps they wouldn't even wish him off, if they were too busy with the cleanliness rounds they suddenly cared so much for.

Candy bar wrappers littered the floor around Jakobsen's trashbin. The office nearly reeked the sickening sweetness of vanilla and chocolate – Eric's stomach squirmed in nausea. The cleanliness rounds never made their way to the corporate offices, even in light of the current situation.

"Mr. Harmon, I'll make this quick. We want you out on the road as soon as possible," Jakobsen said, crossing his fingers on top of the desk. "We have provided to you a car. It has half a tank of gas, so it should get you to Alexandria just fine. However many stops you'd like to take, now that's up to you. We do, _of course_ , expect you back within a week."

The night sky outside of the office window burned a deep purple. Eric began to grow antsy; if he were to set out soon, he might arrive to Alexandria by daybreak, if he took no stops. And he planned very adamantly not to. He wanted to follow the map and arrive safely without interruption.

"We also have this to give to you," Jakobsen murmured, placing a .22 revolver on the table in front of him. "It holds, and currently does, a dozen or so bullets. Use them sparingly. Of the many resources we have here at Bethesda, bullets are, unfortunately, not one of them. When do you plan to leave, Mr. Harmon?"

"As soon as this meeting is over."

"Ah, so quickly. Very well. I have one more piece of information to give you, then," Jakobsen said, rummaging around in his desk drawer before conjuring a sleek, manila envelope. "This envelope contains all the information we would like you to give to the leaders of Alexandria. We would like you to arrive there with the envelope still sealed. Do you understand what I'm saying, _Eric?_ "

Eric stiffened at the horrendous, cold tone the man had so suddenly taken on. "I understand."

"Then tell me."

Eric looked away from the demeaning, blank eyes of the councilman, but nonetheless responded faintly, "I shouldn't look through the envelope."

"Precisely. How nice to see some intelligence is nestled there underneath that garish hair, hmm?"

"E-Excuse me?" Eric's voice rose, almost shrilly. How could this man go from such a cordial demeanor to a dark hardhearted, callous one?

"You know, _Eric,_ " Jakobsen sneered, leaning back. "Before you leave, I think now would be a good time to hash a few things out with you. You see, the council has not exactly been pleased with you in the past."

Eric was speechless.

"You've undermined our authority a countless number of times. You have stood in the public forum and _deliberately_ attacked us and our leadership. You have relentlessly questioned us in the face of dependent, impressionable residents – our community is not perfect, Eric, but you have rallied support against us that just cannot continue to prosper."

Eric, through the tightening of his throat, wondered if he _had_ really attacked them in the way Jakobsen retold. He had always been the one to ask questions and to demand answers – from his childhood to his work in the NGO, this trait had been ever-present but had never really been a problem. Yet the more he thought about it, the more he could remember standing at public forums and rallying support for more heat, for rations to be divided more heartily to the families, and the like. But he never could have imagined the council would be against his participation.

"A community needs to work as a whole in order to survive! And you've made some of our more simpleminded residents resent our authority. That just will not do, Eric."

A beat of silence.

"Well, it's no matter now. You are repaying us tonight."

Sensing the end to the conversation and wanting nothing more than to escape the tension that circumvented the small, stuffy room, Eric stood quickly and clutched at the envelope and the gun almost desperately. Jakobsen's eyes flashed dangerously, and a slow, small smile made its way onto his thin, pale lips.

"Safe travels, my dear Eric. I'm, ah… sure we'll see each other quite soon."

Eric nodded and moved towards the door quickly.

Jakobsen chuckled to himself. "And if not, well, it has certainly been a pleasure, Eric."


	3. Chapter 3

Eric glanced quickly to the stiff, manila envelope on the passenger seat. With the councilman's wicked warning still ringing in his ears, Eric couldn't help but look to the envelope every few moments. Surely the information was important, but how much so that not even the messenger could read it?

The roads were calm and clear. It seemed as though all the Halfers had been taken out just for his journey – but even through the lack of evident danger, Eric could not will his muscles to relax, nor his eyes from twitching constantly to the envelope.

The journey shouldn't have taken more than an hour, but the car was slow, beat-up. It had taken Eric ten minutes to start the car up initially – and with the ominous rattling of the engine, Eric hoped he wouldn't have to struggle with it a second time, not on these roads. And although his mission was time sensitive, he found himself slowing the car down just for his own curiosity; the world around him was in ruins. The buildings were in shambles, the roads cracked, bodies strewn across landscapes – the images, if Eric could ever find solace, would never leave his mind. He began to wonder if being shielded for so long had been a blessing all along.

By the time he reached suburbia, near miles from Alexandria, Eric was starved for food and water. The can of peaches and the few other amenities the residents of Bethesda had given him were long gone, and the lasting hunger Eric had felt clawing at him for well over two weeks now had begun to reach a peak.

He looked to the backseat, where his backpack and supplies lay hidden in the dark. He was glad he hadn't the need for the tent or sleeping bags – a minute unsecured on the side of the road or nestled into the forest would have done him in, he was sure of it.

It was just as Eric breathed a sigh of relief at his luck did the car splutter warningly before slamming to a complete stop in the middle of the road.

Eric lurched forward violently, coughing as the seat belt cut into his neck and left a dark, deep red line. Smoke floated lazily from the engine.

Silence began to settle in. The angry, tired roar of the engine was now woefully quiet and left the car ringing in its absence – not even a single cricket chirped its wings. Eric was completely alone, as he always thought he would be.

He drew in a shaky breath. He knew he couldn't very well sit there and wait for something bad to happen, he knew he had to do _something_ , but he couldn't force his legs to move, nor his arms to move from the steering wheel, nor his eyes to stop glancing at the envelope.

Slowly, he reached to the backseat and pulled a wrench from the toolbox nestled in the foot space. If what he knew of cars was true, he knew how to fix it. It was just a matter of stepping outside of the car door – and god, did the mere thought of it shake him to his bones.

He watched, with a near omnipresence, as his fingers traced along the dashboard to curl slowly around the barrel of the gun. He carefully strung the weapon to hang off of his belt before latching onto the door handle, taking a deep breath, and stepping out in the chilly, night air. If the atmosphere in the car was silent, then the open road around him was suffocating. In the distance, a low growl reverberated among the tops of the trees.

He slowly inched his way to the front of the car, his beat-up high top sneakers kicking up gravel as he moved. He vaguely wondered if he should have worn heavier footwear. Eric drew in another shaky breath and opened the lid of the car. He got to work quickly, hands trembling against the cool metal of the wrench. The gun pulled him to earth more than gravity tried.

Suddenly, the growling once heard in the distance appeared at his ear. Eric gasped and whipped around, only to come face to face with a Halfer and fall back against the open lid of the car. The monster in front of him moaned, skin dripping down the front of its face and jaw unhinged like it tore itself to pieces. The clothes on its back only seemed to be held together by dried blood. And Eric, his own blood dripping down the back of his hairline from where his head dug into the hood of the car, trapped by the very thing he had been shielded from for so long.

The Halfer reached its shaking arms out to him, but Eric managed to lift his leg to push it down to the ground before it could reach him. It groaned, almost in amusement, before lurching back to its feet. Eric anxiously scrambled for the gun at his side.

The thing tried to snap its broken jaw, tongue coming out to lick at its dead lips – Eric never could have imagined this. His death would come on the middle of a barren road, alone, at the hands of something so cruel, like a joke from the gods. His death, like his life, would mean nothing. And the manila envelope would remain on the passenger seat forever.

And the people of Bethesda – they too, would remain on the passenger seat forever. They were wrong to have placed their trust on some skinny, underfed man with no experience in surviving. His sendoff back at Bethesda had truly been a sendoff.

And Jakobsen had been right – perhaps there wasn't any intelligence underneath his skull. Just more meat for this monster.

 _Eric,_

 _We will be counting down the days until you're back! Be safe out there. You're our hero!_

But he couldn't give up now – not when he was so close to Alexandria, not when he had so many lives on his shoulders. With one final push of adrenaline, Eric reached blindly for the wrench that had fallen to his feet mere seconds ago. He grabbed the handle, and with a yell, slammed the head of the tool into the Halfers skull with a sickening _crunch_. It fell to Eric's feet, dead once more.

Eric's fingers could hold the weight of the wrench no more – it dropped to the ground like the Halfer with a loud, reverberating crash. It took only three seconds for the reality to set in.

One.

Two.

Three.

Eric's legs gave out and he slid down the length of the car. His breath came in short gasps, his chest wracked with shivers, and his eyes were wide and unblinking – his entire being hyperventilated and he could do nothing but pull his legs to his chest and try to control the air around him.

He raised his head slowly to stare blankly ahead of himself. He saw only dark trees, the dark street – shadows danced before his eyes and replayed his near death like acrobatics.

Then, in the distance, a light. It was fast approaching him, dangling in the air and casting warmth across the dark street and rubble, across Eric's cold face. Eric glanced down to the dead Halfer at his side, and wondered, too, if he had died. He wondered if this light he was so transfixed on was his own little heaven, welcoming him to a place far away from this world. His fingers slowly traced across his bare arm, pinching slightly. He felt little and continued to stare at the light, bobbing through the air towards him.

His breath returned to him in one quick inhale. Suddenly he realized he was not dead, he had not joined the Halfer, and he was _alive_ and very much wanted to stay that way. The light he had once thought was his heaven was a lantern, and it was startlingly close to him.

He staggered to his feet, blood pounding against the back of skull, and blood dripping down across the back of his shirt. He slammed the lid of the car closed, hoped he had fixed it well enough to make a hasty retreat, before running to the driver's side of the car. Then, cutting through the darkness, a voice called out to him.

"Hey, wait! Don't go!"

Eric froze in fear. His fingers tightened their hold on the door handle, but made no move to open it. He knew he was now trapped. Whoever was holding the lantern had seen him, heard him, and their footsteps were so close he could almost feel the earth shake with each bound of their running feet. He could do nothing but grasp at the gun on his hip and take a deep breath.

"Damn, you tryin' to give this guy a heart attack? Thought you was good at this," a second voice muttered gruffly.

Eric turned around quickly and raised the gun in the air, arms wavering. He had never held a gun before, but hoped these people wouldn't notice.

The footsteps slowed, and stepping over the rubble and garbage, emerged two men, the first holding the lantern in the air. He smiled and lowered the light to the ground; it illuminated the ground like a dance stage.

The first man raised his hands pacifically, a soft smile on his lips and an apprehensive, curious look in his eyes; and distantly, Eric wondered if perhaps he was in heaven. He had never seen a sweeter smile than the one presented to him in that moment.

The second man glanced between his companion and Eric, and only snorted and raised his crossbow in the air at Eric warningly, despite the glare from the first man.

"Hi," the first man started slowly, taking another step forward, "I'm Aaron, and this is Daryl. Are you alone?"

Eric arms trembled under the force of the gun but managed a quick eye roll, lovely thoughts abandoned. "Of course I'm alone. Why… why are you two out here – at night?"

The first man, Aaron, took another calculated step forward. "I could ask you the same thing, you realize."

Eric took a quick step back, tried to turn the safety off of the gun, but couldn't force his frozen fingers to move. "My car broke down, I was trying to fix it," he mumbled defensively. Aaron nodded slowly, and lowered his arms a fraction.

A tense moment followed. Eric couldn't take his eyes off the pair of men before him – the contrast between Aaron, with his wide, reassuring eyes, and his clean traces of stubble, and the second man, Daryl, with dirt combed through his long, dark hair, and pupils almost transparent in his suspicion.

"Sorry, we didn't mean to scare you. But we heard you yell and came to, uh, investigate," Aaron said, gesturing awkwardly with his hands. Daryl shifted his crossbar in his arms and coughed.

"Where you headin', redhead?" he asked gruffly.

Eric saw no point in lying or avoiding the question. If he was trapped, lying would do him no good. "Alexandria."

The gasps of shock and confusion from the two men surprised Eric. They glanced at each other, and Daryl hesitated a moment before pointing his crossbow at Eric's forehead. Aaron looked back to Eric in disbelief and alarm. "Alexandria? We… we're from Alexandria. The community in Virginia? Yeah. We live there."

It was then Eric's turn to be confused. "How do I know you're not lying?"

Aaron shifted and shot a look to Daryl once more. "I can assure you, we're not. Let me ask you this, though. Why are you looking for Alexandria?"

Eric glanced toward the passenger seat of his car. "I just… need to speak with your community leaders."

"You ain't gonna tell us why?" Daryl asked, eyes narrowing.

Eric shook uncomfortably, hair on the back of his neck standing weakly, as though the eyes of the councilmen were watching him – cold, pale, unforgiving. "I'm not sure if I'm allowed to."

Daryl moved closer, muscles in his arm flexing angrily. "Okay, what's the deal here? You got some backup somewhere, some snipers or somethin'? You tryin' to take Alexandria, is that it?"

"No, no, I'm not –"

"'Cause its lookin' to me like you hidin' something. Don't forget, red, that _we_ was the ones that found _you_ , alone in the middle of the road at night. And you tryin' to find Alexandria, but ain't gonna tell us why?" Daryl said, voice harsh, "You better fess up, 'fore I put in arrow right there in your forehead."

Aaron shot a warning look to Daryl. "You say you're not allowed to tell us? Does this mean you were sent by another group, another community?"

Eric nodded quickly, afraid to use his voice.

Aaron looked him over quickly. "I didn't know there was another community around here. And you said you're looking for Alexandria?"

"Yeah, I've been following a map the entire night."

Aaron tilted his head to the side, confused once more. "Do you mind showing me that map?"

Eric was almost afraid to do so. But eventually, he willed his feet to retreat back to his car, and procured the faded map for the two men in front of him. Aaron took the map with a small smile, before looking it over intently. "Ah, so you're from somewhere in Bethesda, Maryland?"

Eric nodded once more. He lowered the gun slowly to his side and watched as the two men surveyed the map with bewilderment. The silence that followed was excruciating – soon, Eric couldn't take it anymore, and mumbled, "I've just followed the red line."

"Yes, we see that. But what's strange is that this red line isn't leading you to Alexandria at all," Aaron muttered, looking up at him. "Daryl and I are out recruiting for our community. We traveled fifty or so miles west – hell, we're pretty close to the West Virginian border. And so are you."

Eric felt his body begin to tremble. "What are you saying? I followed the map wrong?"

"No, you followed it correctly," Aaron said, handing the map to Daryl. "The map is wrong. That red line leads you nowhere."

The gun fell from Eric's fingers and clattered to the ground.


	4. Chapter 4

_Update: Jordan Woods-Robinson gave Eric a last name. That is the name I will be using henceforth – I have also gone back to the earlier chapters and replaced Harmon with Raleigh. That is all. Enjoy the chapter, and I apologize for the wait! :3_

* * *

"The map is wrong. That red line leads you nowhere."

The gun fell from Eric's fingers and clattered to the ground. His eyes darted up to meet Aaron's, wide and unbelieving. He wiped an arm across his brow and let out a soft chuckle. "What are you talking about? No – I must've followed the lines wrong… give me the map again."

Daryl slowly handed the map back over, eyes narrowed. Eric snatched the paper from his hands and surveyed the lines once more – the roads he should have known from his past, the freeways he must've travelled on more than a hundred times, the landmarks and the rest stops his family had once stopped for – but the memories were gone, replaced only with unfamiliarity and an easy, naïve mind.

An incessant itch began to crawl its way under Eric's skin. He glanced quickly to the two men in front of him, surveying him cautiously, and suddenly felt he must run away. From the ghost of the crossbow at his forehead, to the dead walker at his feet, he was hit with a wave of fear and overwhelming. The lantern at their feet sent his shadow yards away, long body disfigured by the rubble in the street and the rustling in the trees.

His throat closed and constricted around nothing, nothing but strangled breath. He shakily folded the map and kept his eyes to the ground. "Well, thanks f-for your help. I think I'll be going now…"

"Wait," Aaron called, and Eric's eyes snapped forward to meet his. "Like I said, we're from Alexandria. If you were sent to meet with us, then we can show you the way."

Daryl scoffed and rolled his eyes, obvious even in the dark and under his thick bangs. "Yeah, man, maybe that brain a'yours under that ass red hair isn't as smart as your leaders thought. Maybe that line ain't right after all."

Eric's shoulders began to shake. Jakobsen's words rang shrilly in his ears.

 _A community needs to work as a whole in order to survive._

Perhaps it was a mistake – the journey to this point had been paved with broken roads, turned cars and impenetrable traffic jams. It was not unlikely that the council, knowing this, attempted to find him a safer route. The lines had simply become skewed along the way – just as his memories had, and likely the councilmembers as well. It was not solely up to him to decide to abandon his mission – he had the needs and voices of his community to think of before his own. The manila envelope was not going to be delivered on its own, no matter how hard Eric may will it.

"Besides, you ain't goin' nowhere. Not with that shit," Daryl muttered, gesturing to Eric's car. Eric glanced from him to the car wildly.

"What? You can tell what's wrong with it?"

"I can tell you that your wrench an' your toolbox ain't gonna fix it," Daryl said gruffly, before striding past him to peer into the car's engine. He let out a short laugh. "Yeah, looks like you're stranded."

Eric dropped the map to the ground and rushed over to the man, hands fumbling uselessly at his side. "What are you talking about?" his voice began to take on an octave of panic. "It was working just fine all night –"

Daryl slung his crossbow across his back and crossed his arms. "You don't trust me? Go start 'yer engine and see for y'self."

Eric could near literally _feel_ Daryl's eyes boring into the side of his head and thought better of testing his word against his own worries. The weight of the car keys in his pocket pressed against his legs, and it was only then that Eric realized his fatigue. It had been a grueling day.

And with the day – or rather, with the darkness – coming to a close, Eric wanted nothing more than to sink to his knees and bury his face in his hands. He felt as if he had both consumed a gallon of caffeine and bet against the equator – exhaustion was pulling him into a deep, final slumber while his mind was running haywire.

Aaron reached a placating hand towards him. "Cars nowadays… they're about as reliable and trustworthy as the Roamers. We're headed to the same place as you, the only difference is that we have a working car. We can take you."

Eric took a step back, and cringed as his heel snapped the Halfer's fingers by mistake. He resisted the sudden urge to vomit. He shook his head and scrambled to grab the map at Daryl's feet. "We've just met. I can't… can't trust you."

The world around him began to shift. Gravity no longer rested comfortably upon his shoulders, rather pushed him angrily to the ground. His vision swam, marred with disturbed pictures of Halfers marching toward him, like an army, not far off, not far off at all, so close he could almost feel warm, rotten breath upon his red cheeks – red from fear, pain, red – and the wrench was so far away, the gun so far away but it was just at his side if he could just reach it, force his frozen fingers to move – "I will…" Eric managed to mutter, "I will find a new car."

His voice was not aligned with the shakiness of his being. His voice rang strong, but his muscles on the verge of collapse. He took small steps toward a nearby car, triumphant even in his haze of panic. Aaron's concerned, wide eyes comforted him little.

He hadn't taken more than five steps when a hand grabbed his ankle from below a pile of rubble. Eric fell onto his stomach, and gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. He could feel the blunt nails of the Halfer dig into his skin through the thick fabric of his pants, and cried out in alarm.

Aaron let out a sharp gasp of shock before rushing over, quickly brandishing a sharp, glinting knife from his side. Eric scratched and pulled against the pavement, fingertips reduced to blood and stone – he had nearly scratched his fingers raw by the time Aaron and Daryl reached his side.

Aaron slammed the head of his long knife into the arm of the Halfer. Immediately the strength pulling at him ceased, and Eric, too, felt all strength leave his body. Daryl rolled him onto his back roughly and Eric lifted his hands to stare blankly at the blood and grime tarnishing his once fair skin. Aaron kneeled down and rubbed his forehead.

Daryl readjusted his weapon and kicked lightly at Eric's leg. "It ain't that you can't trust us. Don't matter if you do or don't. You _need_ us."

Eric sighed shakily and nodded, a single line of tears slipping from the corner of his eye to drop unnoticed to the dark cement below him. Aaron patted his chest and gestured for Daryl to help hoist him to his feet. Eric swayed on his feet and rested heavily on Aaron for support, and thought nothing of how safe he began to feel.

Aaron voice rumbled through his skin. "You haven't been out here much since the outbreak, have you?"

A moment passed in silence.

"Come on, then," Aaron continued, quieter, leading Eric away from the nearby car. "We'll help you get your things and then we can head out. But I have one condition."

Eric stopped.

Aaron looked to him cautiously. "I cannot in any good conscience bring you into my community without knowing first why you were initially searching for it. You say you come from a community in Bethesda. What business do you have here, then?"

"I already said…" Eric said softly, trailing off. "I'm not sure if I can say."

Daryl huffed and walked briskly to pick up the lantern, shining it on them like a spotlight. Aaron nodded, almost to himself – his words were stuck in his head, that Eric could tell, and he could do nothing but wait for Aaron's decision.

He couldn't even decide for himself what he wanted Aaron to say. Did he want to go to Alexandria with them? He had, after all, only just met them – but, as the more rational piece of his mind insisted, they had saved him from a Halfer attack, and were willing to help him. As defenseless and useless as he was. His car wouldn't travel another meter, let alone dozens of miles – it was either accept their help or accept his death. Eric shivered at the morbidity.

 _Knowing that when you return, my children won't go to bed hungry anymore, well… you know. We're all so grateful._

"Wait," Eric interrupted quickly. Aaron started slightly, obviously torn from the brink of thought. Even Daryl looked up from beneath his heavy bangs.

"My community… Bethesda. We're dying."

* * *

Despite the tension near moments ago, the air in the car did not hang heavy. The silence was not deafening, but relaxing. The engine was but a low hum in the background – such a contrast to the groans of the Halfers and the angry screams of Eric's previous car. The car reflected little light – the atmosphere was dark, but calming. For the first time since he was called into Jakobsen's office, he felt at peace. Safe.

And how silly that it was because of the two men sitting above him in the front seats.

On his lap laid the manila envelope – his once clean button-up had been tarnished by blood and grime, and yet, the envelope remained clean and in pristine condition. Eric had kept it so.

He was unprotected. Daryl had forced his gun off of him before he had even stepped into the car – Aaron had shot him an apologetic look, but said nothing. Eric understood. It was almost a relief to be unarmed.

He had taken a detour to get to where he was now, but he would soon be entering Alexandria. He never imagined himself as a hero, not even a sidekick, but his heart was full to the brim with pride – pride in himself for leaving his home, for reaching beyond his comfortability, for trusting these two men.

He had never been anything in his life.

Aaron turned to him. "Have we met before? You seem familiar."

Eric was startled out of his thoughts. "Oh," he stuttered, facing forward. "I doubt it."

He let his eyes drift to the window. He could only stare blankly ahead at the blurred trees, slowly warming to the morning light. For a moment, he forgot where he was. He saw only the purple sunrise, fading softly into oranges, yellows, reds. Yes, for only a moment, red did not carry the weight of blood, but the effortless strength of serenity. He rolled down the window, just halfway, just enough to feel the cool air on his face – he slowly closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Never before had he felt so still, so free. Smoke billowed out the window from Daryl's cigarette.

"We don't even know your name."

"My name is Eric," he muttered. "Raleigh. Eric Raleigh."

The car drove on.

* * *

 _Aaron shrugged on his jacket and poured himself a small cup of coffee. For whatever reason, the building was freezing. The employees donned jackets and sweaters of all kinds, enough to compete against the winter winds soon to come. November was brisk, but right now, the office building rivaled even the cruelest of temperatures._

 _Yet to his left sat a young man by a window. Aaron saw only his profile, not the work in front of him or even the color of his button up below his gray sweater; he saw, too, the carefully styled red curls upon his head. He had thrown the window open, and cool air wafted lazily in from outside._

 _Aaron hadn't met him before – the organization employed hundreds of people. Perhaps he was new; perhaps he was visiting from a different department. Nonetheless, there he sat, head resting gently upon his folded hands, deep brown eyes glazed over. The man was lost in thought, pale, pensive, wistful, like a still life painting._

 _He was mesmerizing._

 _And Aaron didn't even know his name._


	5. Chapter 5

They had traveled only two hours when the sun broke over the horizon. The darkness had dissipated with the chilly night air and left only dew drops on the few blades of grass and bleariness to their eyes. Eric's head shook slightly against the hard plane of glass he had tried to rest upon. His ears grew deaf to the hushed whispers of the two men in front and instead focused on the rhythmic crunch of the wheels against pavement.

His hands rested upon the envelope on his lap. It was thick with papers and sealed at the top – and Eric wanted nothing more than to quench his curiosity and unlock the clasp. He could only imagine the lines of neat, handwritten text, promises over blank lines – unifying and securing these two communities to each other, to help each other, in this seemingly barren world. But just as his red fingertips traced along the cool metal of the clasp, he immediately pulled his hand away.

He couldn't explain it. As much as he wanted to, he felt it was a betrayal. It was not his information to read. With Jakobsen's sneer in his mind, he wondered if perhaps the less he knew the better.

They had traveled only three hours when they hit a wall.

 _Eric!_

In the distant, Eric heard a voice. It was far, muddled as if under water, yet urgent. Eric could not make out the words, only his name – repeated over and over, louder and louder. He clenched his eyes further, and tried to ignore the incessant alarm. He wanted to roll back under his covers for five more minutes, and wake only when the need for coffee became too much.

 _Eric!_

He wondered if he had any sweetener left.

"Eric!" Aaron yelled from the front seat, and Eric finally woke with a start, "here, take this. We're stuck. We hit a mob. C'mon, grab your stuff –"

A knife was thrust into Eric's hands, tip slicing his hand slightly. Eric gasped, fingers curling around the handle instinctively while frantically reaching for his belongings. Daryl was shaking his head from the front seat and reaching below his seat to retrieve his crossbow. He and Aaron were surprisingly calm, and Eric felt himself relax with them – that is, until he chanced a look out the window.

Gray skin, sunken eyes, and bloody teeth pressed against the glass, muted groans echoing in Eric's ears like a long-dead chant. He sucked in a horrified gasp, but couldn't tear himself away from the sight. Never before had he been so close to the Halfers – hours ago, he had seen one reach for his life, but Eric hadn't the time to look closely. But now, with a layer of protection between them, Eric found himself transfixed. It was unexplainable. Fear and terror tugged at his entire being, but his mind simply could not wrap itself around the image in front of him.

He had been sheltered for so long. "Wha – why…?" he stuttered, voice small and weak. The knife in his hand glinted dangerously in the early morning sun.

"Listen here, red," Daryl barked, turning to face him. "We've seen bigger herds of 'em before, but no need to get lazy now. Yeah, we shoulda taken a diff'rent road, but what's done's done."

Bigger herds?

Reality finally hit him. A Halfer hit its head against the glass of the window, groaning and moaning becoming more and more lurid. Its dead eyes saw nothing, only saw through Eric like an obstruction or a weak piece of meat. Eric gulped, fingers beginning to shake.

"You listenin'?" Daryl asked, voice louder. "There ain't too many of 'em. But we gotta get out before more come –"

"How did this happen?!" Eric asked, voice almost shrill with panic. "We were just driving!"

Aaron turned and ran a hand through his hair. "Eric, calm down. You fell asleep. We tried to maneuver around this herd, but they surrounded us. Listen to me carefully. We can get out of this easily, but you need to keep your wits about you and stay close to us. Kill any Roamers you can, but just try to get away. Can you do this for me?"

Aaron studied him carefully. The man's eyebrows were pulled together, worry pinching his brow though moments he promised his and Eric's safety. Eric looked up and locked eyes with him – his eyes were light blue, wide, and were searching his own. Eric could almost feel himself falling into them. _For me_.

"I – okay," Eric stuttered, voice small. He slung his bag across his back and took a slow, deep breath.

"On the count of three, then," Daryl muttered, fingers curling around the door handle. Aaron did the same.

One.

 _Safe travels, my dear Eric. I'm, ah… sure we'll see each other quite soon._

Two.

 _And if not, well, it has certainly been a pleasure._

Three.

Eric threw the door open and immediately pushed against the chest of the Halfer with his boots as it fell towards him. He dodged its body as it lurched backwards and leapt from the backseat, brandishing his knife, and quickly looked to his side. Daryl had sent an arrow into the skulls of three different Halfers already, and Aaron had slammed two heads into the metal of the car. A sudden wave of insignificance hit him.

A groaning near his ear snapped him out of his blank reverie. Eric whipped around to find not one, but two, Halfers reaching toward him. And then he couldn't explain it – his arm lifted, seemingly by its own accord, and Eric watched as his knife was sent right through the skull of the first Halfer. His arm trembled as he pulled his weapon back to his side, and he stared at the knife in horror. It dripped dark blood and no longer did it glint in the moonlight. It seemed to dull before his eyes.

"Tha's right," Daryl yelled. "Sure you ain't done this before?"

The crowd of Halfers began to lessen. Eric pushed another Halfer to the ground but refused to lift his shaking knife once more. The knife clattered to the ground as he rushed to the edge of the highway and sunk to his knees – soon Aaron and Daryl were running back to him, triumphant smirks gracing their lips.

Abandoned cars filled the road to the brim. The paint had faded over time and the only color that seemed to grace the wasteland was that of blood – bodies were strewn across the road and in the car seats. It was a graveyard, Eric thought, as his stomach gave a sickening lurch.

"Hey," Aaron muttered. "Are you alright?"

 _He was not equipped to deal with this!_ Eric's breaths came in short bursts and he let his head fall into his hands, trying to shield his face from the two men in front of him. They already saw him as weak and incapable – what would they think of him, then, if they knew he was battling an onslaught of panic? He tried to take deep breaths but all that escaped him were choked, ragged exhales.

"Hey, whoa, whoa –" Aaron said quickly, kneeling down. "You're fine, you're okay – what's going on?"

Daryl rubbed the back of his neck and lightly kicked at Eric's feet. "Yeah, man, you get bit or somethin'?"

Eric managed to shake his head but still refused to look up. He couldn't control his own breathing, let alone speak – he felt absolutely out of control. Aaron's eyes were wrinkled in worry. "No? That's good, that's good," he murmured, seemingly only to himself. He sighed and rubbed a slow hand across Eric's hunched back. "This really must be your first time out here."

Eric's shoulders began to tremble. Daryl moved back slowly, hand still rubbing at his neck uncomfortably. "I'm, uh, I'm gonna go loot the cars or somethin'. Be back soon."

Eric heard Daryl's heavy footsteps begin to fade away, crunching over the rubble and trash that littered the highway so hauntingly. His ears rang at every step. Aaron sighed once more and sank to the ground next to him.

Finally, Eric managed to lift his head. Aaron's eyes were deep with sincerity and Eric could feel himself fall into them – he shook his head and tried to clear his head. Even with Aaron at his level, he continued to shield his face and instead tried to focus on Daryl's distant figure rummaging through the old cars.

 _You're a reliable representation of our great community! And you worked at a peaceful non-governmental organization in the past, am I correct? You are already equipped with the tools and techniques needed to mingle with other peoples._

The two stared off into the glistening sunrise in front of them. The ground below them was beginning to warm to the touch, and in the trees behind them, birds began to chirp softly. The warmest colors light the sky, deep oranges and light reds – overhead, nature began to tremble with the passing winds. It tousled Eric's hair and blew new breath into his lungs.

"It's okay to feel scared or overwhelmed," Aaron muttered softly. "I used to be, too. Now feeling scared is second nature. I'm not saying it's a good way to feel – because it's not. But fear keeps us on our feet, keeps us prepared. It helps us stay alive."

Eric finally turned to face Aaron. His voice wavered only slightly. "Why do you do this?" he asked hoarsely. "Why do you recruit? Why be afraid?"

Aaron sighed. His eyes twitched toward Daryl's figure and became distant for a moment. Eric pulled his backpack onto his lap and clutched it tightly – he could feel the sharp edges of the manila envelope against his arms and was calmed. When Eric looked over, Aaron's full bottom lip was turned out in deep thought.

"I was very fortunate…" Aaron finally spoke, "to find such a stable community like Alexandria. Most people haven't been that lucky. We've helped families find a better life. At the end of the day, whether I'm lying in my bed or I'm lying out here in the open, I'm happy. It's worth it."

A moment passed in silence.

"I wish I was as brave as you," Eric said softly, frowning slightly. "It's awful out here."

Aaron gave him a small smile. "It's not all bad. We found you."

Immediately a prime blush lit up Eric's cheeks and his words stuck in his throat. He looked away quickly and tried to hide from Aaron's deep eyes, mind racing with the implications of what Aaron had so easily said. But before he could so much as whisper, Aaron spoke again, and the moment slowly wafted away.

"While we have a moment," he said, meeting Eric's eyes, "I want to ask you something. And don't take it the wrong way."

Aaron looked lazily down to the backpack upon Eric's lap. He must've seen the sharp corners of the envelope jut out of the fabric. "Why did you volunteer to come out here? Surely there must have been more willing people."

Eric's gaze began to blur to see visions of the council, the five people that had elected themselves to lead Bethesda – Jakobsen's eyes glinted dangerously and a wide smirk curled his lips. His words always haunted Eric. _It has been a wonderful eight months with you by our side._

Eric hesitated. "I didn't really volunteer… so to speak. The council chose me for this and I didn't have a place to argue. We don't generally argue with the council."

 _Listen here, Mr. Harmon. Sometimes leaders have to… stretch the truth a bit to conserve the wellbeing of his constituents. Why, if we told Bethesda we had no food left, don't you agree it would most negatively affect the overall safety and sanity of our people?_

"When the world falls apart, the first thing to go is democracy."

He started at Aaron's shocked gaze, but nonetheless continued with a sad shrug, "It's okay. I'm happy to help. Our food has been low for a long time. I used to work at an NGO, so the council has a lot of faith that I can negotiate peacefully."

"An NGO? Based in Washington D.C.?"

Eric nodded. "Peace Corps. I mean, I was strictly corporate, but hopefully the mandatory training will help me in Alexandria."

Aaron couldn't quite seem to find a reaction – all at once his face shaped surprise, shock, confusion, anger, and realization like an incomplete sculpture. His eyes widened as he stared at Eric deeply, as if committing his face to memory, or rather, pulling it from. He seemed to fall apart and put himself back together in only a second.

T _here he sat, head resting gently upon his folded hands, deep brown eyes glazed over. The man was lost in thought, pale, pensive, wistful, like a still life painting. He was mesmerizing._

Suddenly Daryl's feet appeared before them. "You two ready to hit the road again? I'm beat, ready to sleep this shit off."

Eric looked up at the man and gave him a stiff, shaky nod. He stood to his feet and slung his bag across his back, and looked down to Aaron, who still sat deep in thought. Daryl nudged his leg with his foot and beckoned with a quick tilt of his head. "Come on, man. Ain't got that far left."

Aaron seemed to shake himself out of his stupor. "Uh, yeah, yeah… let's go."

The path to the car was littered with the bodies of the Halfers. Daryl silently retrieved his arrows from their skulls and Aaron cleaned the blade of his knife on the shirt of another – Eric could not so easily mute his mind against the sounds of the once alive bodies, nor become immune against the affect he didn't want to admit the mob had on them. He picked up his knife from the ground and handed it to Aaron, whose eyes were still muddled with distracted thoughts of another time.

Daryl gently placed his crossbow into the footspace of the driver's seat and pulled himself in as Aaron did the same with his backpack. Eric crawled in back and wiped at his teary eyes. Daryl grunted and shoved the key into the ignition, before turning to them briefly and muttering, "Well 'en, next stop Alexandria."

* * *

 _The man sighed peacefully and stood, breathing in the cool outside air before softly shutting the window and locking it in place. He clutched his sweater tightly around his body and hugged his arms to his chest._

 _Aaron couldn't find any words in him to speak. He could only stare at the man and let his coffee cool – he took a step closer, hoping to at least see his face, or tell him he made coffee, or ask him his name; but before he could so much as open his mouth, his stumbled across the clean, linoleum floor, and watched in horror as his coffee spilled from the cup onto his jacket._

 _The man at the window turned then, his eyes following the trail of coffee from Aaron's mug to his front and back to the mug. His eyes were a deep brown and his skin pale, his lips pink and his nose defined. He watched Aaron's face for a reaction, eyes crinkling at the corners._

 _Finally, he let a wide, amused smile grace his lips._


	6. Chapter 6

When Eric first thought of Alexandria, he thought of the Renaissance – perhaps Alexandria was even grander than he had imagined. He envisioned a castle atop a range of steep hills, steep enough to keep the danger at bay. Flags would wave in the cool, high air from the castle's peaks – a brick wall and a moat would surround the town and the people. When Eric thought of Alexandria, he thought nothing less than the grandeur it deserved.

He found himself shocked, then, when Daryl slowed the car to a stop in front of a tall, metal wall. They were on flat ground, with no hills in sight. Not even a gentle slope. Above them stood three watchtowers. Eric pressed his face against the window and squinted his eyes against the bright sun – he could make out a woman surveying on the first, gun in hand, pointed right at their car.

Just like his imagination had predicted, Alexandria was large. Beyond the metal walls Eric heard noises – children playing, mothers yelling, even dogs barking. He had never heard such a sweeter sound than in that moment. If he had any tears left, they would surely be shed.

Trees poked out beyond the wall, branches strong and healthy, green leaves dancing gracefully in the wind. The sky seemed almost bluer beyond the gates. It was such a startling change; in Bethesda, Eric had survived months without even a glance to the sky. The windows and doors had been boarded long before any of the residents had a thought to look upwards. Instead, he had grown used to the dirty ceilings of the mall, and hadn't let his mind wander to the lost colors.

For a moment, just a moment, he felt so peaceful; his thought lasted only a second, but the guilt lingered long after – _he didn't want to go back_. He didn't want to return home to Bethesda. When he thought back to his home, far from the warm community in front of him, it was not happiness that greeted him, but suffocation. He couldn't stare one more day at the dark, cobwebbed ceiling of Bethesda.

He wanted to stay here.

Eric glanced to the front seat. Daryl was fiddling with the dashboard of the car and Aaron was yawning, hand stretched across his mouth and oval eyes narrow. Eric found himself transfixed, mind stuck on a conversation only hours before, like a broken record player.

 _It's not all bad. We found you._

Eric shook his head and rid himself of his nagging thoughts; in the time he spent alone at Bethesda, he hadn't given much thought toward relationships. It never occurred to him to even let himself wonder. He had gone so long without warmth that building a fire seemed hopeless.

But for a moment, just a moment, he felt so peaceful.

On the ground, next to Daryl's torn, black bag, was his own. It jutted out awkwardly with the strength of the envelope within it. Without thinking of the consequences, he pulled it from its confines and undid the clasp. His life was already so dark, dim and poor; he couldn't stand to keep the message suffocated like he his own stranded breath.

The gates to Alexandria slowly creaked open. Eric pulled two stiff pieces of cardboard from the manila envelope and laid them flat on his lap. Confused, he slowly separated the two and sandwiched in between was a single page of old text. Only one page had occupied the envelope this entire time. The heaviness he had felt weigh down his backpack were not stacks of papers, but cardboard.

It was a small piece of paper. A short passage, by the looks of it. Over the ringing in his ears, Eric faintly made out the doors in front of him opening and Daryl and Aaron stepping out. The passage read:

 _Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is—his good, pleasing and perfect will._

His hands suddenly fell to his lap in shock. His body began to tremble and he felt as though he couldn't close his eyes, his heart raced against the shaking of his skin, and still the words he had just read haunted the air around him.

Eric's eyes glazed over as the words faded away, only to be replaced with Jakobsen's cutting remarks the day he left. _This envelope contains all the information we would like you to give to the leaders of Alexandria. We would like you to arrive there with the envelope still sealed. Do you understand what I'm saying, Eric?_

 _I understand._

He finally understood.

The council had wanted him to travel to Alexandria, not for the supplies, but to hand over this envelope. It was a bible verse, seemingly torn from the bible itself, dirtied beyond repair and marred by ink and coal.

Where were the trade negotiations? Had he lost them along the way – through the Halfer trials, the blood staining his shirt, seeping in to cling to his chest, fighting a herd… surely, somewhere along the line, he had misplaced the important part.

But the envelope had been sealed all along.

 _Precisely. How nice to see some intelligence is nestled there underneath that garish hair, hmm?_

It hit him like a train – his garish housed nothing more than complete idiocy. He wasn't smart enough to see the signs: bribed away from his home, guilt-tripped into leaving Bethesda, led astray; he was deceived by the same people he depended on for his life.

And worse, even _he_ had deceived Aaron and Daryl. He had lied, made himself out to be a saint, when in reality, he was nothing short of a fool. He could only imagine what they would think of him – a liar with hidden motives. How could he walk into Alexandria, his only backup a bible verse?

Betrayal cut into him like the blade on Aaron's knife.

Eric's head shot up. Aaron.

Aaron and Daryl had left the car and walked forward to meet a crowd now surrounding the tall, metal wall. Daryl was pulled into a rough hug by a man in a policeman's uniform, and Aaron's hand was gently patted by a pretty, blonde woman with two young boys at her side. Suddenly Aaron turned to gesture to the car, to _Eric_ , and the woman hit his arm lightly, a smirk on her lips. Aaron rubbed the back of his neck and hid a grin.

Aaron motioned to the car once more and began to walk towards Eric's side – Eric panicked and shoved the papers back into the envelope and the envelope under Daryl's bag. Aaron pulled open Eric's door and smiled at him.

"Still scared?" he asked softly.

Eric let out a shaky breath. "Aaron, listen, please, I can't –"

Aaron leaned across him and grabbed Eric's bag, then gently pulled Eric up by his arm. "I know it's scary. It'll be okay." With that, he slung the bag across Eric's shoulder with a small, encouraging grin. Eric barely registered the weight now upon his back.

He glanced behind him quickly as he forced his numb legs to move. If he just turned and ran now, he might be able to make it far enough to be forgotten. But Aaron's hand was warm and soft upon his arm and suddenly Eric couldn't find it in himself to run away, no matter how much his mind screamed at him.

"Deanna, this is Eric. Daryl and I found him broken down on the side of the road," Aaron said softly to a short, stern woman. She looked up to Eric and nodded with a faint frown. Contrary to her stature, she seemed sure of herself, authoritative. Without so much as exchanging a single word, Eric could immediately tell she was the leader of this community.

"It is nice to meet you, Eric," she said, but her nice narrowed. "We're always happy to accept in new people. Of course, you and I would need to have a little chat first..."

Eric could feel the eyes of the townspeople scanning his face, his lanky build, and dirty clothing, from the scarf tucked into his collar to the bronze boots at his ankles. The residents were all regular people, dressed in jeans or work uniforms, like the policeman at Eric's left. He almost forgot the world had ended.

Before Eric could respond, the policeman – a rugged, clean-shaven man with tired eyes – spoke to Daryl, "Daryl, did you find any cord connectors?"

The man nodded and threw his crossbow across his back. "Yeah, man, backseat."

Eric could only manage to whip around and watch as the policeman sauntered over to the car, opened the door, and pulled Daryl's bag into his arms. Deanna cleared her throat and crossed her arms. "So, Eric, do you have a last name?"

Eric heard not Deanna's stern voice and only widened his eyes in horror as the policeman bent down curiously to the floor of the car, flicking his head to the side to rid his face of stray hair. Slowly the man straightened and as he slammed the car door shut, Eric caught a glimpse of yellow clutched in his hand.

The man walked back to the group, manila envelope outstretched in his hand. "This yours?" he asked gruffly to Eric, suspecting sneer upon his lips. Eric nodded shakily.

The policeman appraised him for a moment, before scoffing and striding roughly past him to hand the envelope to Deanna. Eric started and reached for the envelope desperately, voice almost shrill, "No, no, wait, that's mine –"

Aaron caught Eric by the arm, oval eyes wide. "Eric? What's going on?"

The policeman moved to stand in front of Eric, and despite being shorter than him, managed to make Eric shrink in on himself in fear. His hands moved to his belt, fingers just _grazing_ the barrel of his gun. "I hope you don't mind, son, but we like to look through belongings. Make sure you ain't _bad_ , y'know."

Eric tried to reach for the envelope once more. "It's just – it's private –"

The policeman grabbed Eric's wrist and pushed it back to his side, head cocking to the side. "'Nless you got somethin' to hide?"

Aaron's hand dropped from Eric's arm, brushing his skin as it fell. He sounded almost nervous when he repeated, "Eric?"

Deanna, with disappearing eyes, turned over the envelope and undid the clasp, just as Eric had done no fewer than five minutes ago. Suddenly it felt as if ages had passed since he was in the car, when death wasn't crawling up his throat with every second that went by. Eric could only watch in mute horror as Deanna pulled the cardboard from the envelope, and then the passage, and read it over.

His stomach fell as Deanna's mouth opened in shock. She looked up to Eric, anger slowly glazing her eyes red – she quickly flipped the parchment over, as if disbelieving, and continued to scan the page. Eric could only imagine what she was thinking and his heart dropped to his feet in one final swoop when the woman shoved the paper into her secretary's hands. The townspeople quickly gathered around, anxious to see what had caused their leaders evident anger and fear.

"No, no, please, listen," Eric pleaded, even as Deanna shot the policeman a look and the man began to walk towards him. "I don't know what's going on, please don't –"

"It is quite evident you do know what's going on," Deanna said, voice rising in volume. "You're with the Brothers."

Eric backed up, hands wavering in the air. "B-Brothers? Who?"

Deanna cocked her head to the side, motioning to the policeman behind her. "Grab him."

Eric took another step back, and his legs shook, hands still trembling away from his body. "Please, I don't know what's going on," he said quickly. "I don't know the Brothers – I was sent here by Bethesda – please, they told me you could help us! Please, listen, I –"

Deanna sighed. "I'm afraid I don't believe you. I would still like to have our little chat, though. Perhaps it'll be easier if you come peacefully."

"No, no, you have it all wrong!" Eric yelled, still backing up. "Please, _please_ , I'm so confused –"

No one would listen to him. They saw him as the enemy now – not a fool, but an enemy. The townspeople stared at him in anger, haunted memories flashing in their eyes of times Eric couldn't even begin to imagine. _The Brothers…_

And he was so scared. The laughter and music he had from inside the walls had decrescendoed to an eerie silence, save for the crunch of his boots against the asphalt. Aaron's wide eyes were on him, gilded in such evident confusion. Daryl seemed uneasy, and couldn't meet his eyes. Everyone else had him on lock, like a flight risk.

So a flight risk he became – as fast as he could, he turned and ran in the opposite direction, nothing on his mind but getting out. He didn't _care_ anymore about the deceit awaiting him back home, nor the tricks the council had played on him up to this point. He so _desperately_ wanted to curl back up in his bed, alone in his mattress store, and hide from this moment forever.

He ran.

He ran away from the shocked gasps of Alexandria behind him, away from the silence behind the walls, away from Aaron's crushed gaze. Distantly, he heard the policeman yell for two men to catch him, and soon, there are three sets of boots across the pavement, and not only his.

In the end, he was no match at all.

Two large, rough hands grabbed his arms and forced him to the group. His knees hit the asphalt hard, jeans and skin ripping open immediately. Blood dripped to the ground from the long gashes across his knees. Eric cried out in pain, gritting his teeth together against the pain on his legs and from his arms twisted roughly behind his back.

 _Listen here, Mr. Raleigh. Sometimes leaders have to… stretch the truth a bit._

The two men pull him up roughly by the underarms and drag him back to the crowd. He was shoved to the ground onto his stomach, and he coughed as he felt the air escape his body in one shuddering breath. His hands burned red.

The policeman leaned down, fingers still tracing along the barrel of his gun. His eyes almost looked wild when he muttered to Eric, "You really shouldn't have done that."

Eric shut his eyes in fear, and didn't open them even when he was pulled to his feet and rope tied his hands behind his back. He felt himself be led through the gates, a stampede of quiet footsteps behind him. He was a prisoner.

Low murmurs surrounded him, but he was unable to make out the words. Only Aaron's voice.

Suddenly, he heard the latch of a door opening, and he was pulled inside a cold home. He felt himself climb stairs, the wood creaking under his weight, before he was shoved into another room and the door slammed behind him.

Then he was alone.

With the comfort of darkness behind his eyelids, he finally let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Upon that slow exhale, he felt two tears slip down his cheeks. He covered his mouth quickly with his hands and hid his sobs into his skin.

He no longer felt peaceful.

* * *

 _Eric,_

 _We will be counting down the days until you're back! Be safe out there. You're our hero!_


	7. Chapter 7

p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"It seemed like millennials before he opened his eyes again. He wasn't sure if he had fallen asleep, or fallen into a shocked stupor, but when he finally managed to blink away the fatigue and strain from his eyes, the day had faded to night and he couldn't make out his surroundings./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"The skin of his wrists burned a dull red, angry at the stress at which they were put under, and his arms, too, ached tremendously. The knees of his jeans had been long since ruined, and blood seeped through the fabric; when the darkness faded slightly and he could make out his surroundings, the first thing he made out were the deep red stains from his knees down to his ankles. The stretches of thin thread across his tattered knees were embedded into his skin and when he tried to shift his legs, they dug deeper into his flesh – Eric gritted his teeth against the pain as more blood dripped onto the hardwood floor./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"He jolted as he realized – hardwood floor! He trailed his hands up and down, in the space he could, and felt the smooth wood under his fingertips. It was clean, not even a trace of dust stained his skin. He looked up quickly, to the only window in the room. The drapes were closed, but a thin stream of moonlight managed to break its way through the crack. If he could only get to the window, then he could – no. He wouldn't think that far./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"He could only focus on the present. If he thought too hard, perhaps thought too deeply, then his mind would wander to that letter… and it terrified him. He couldn't think of it, not now./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""Just to the window," he muttered to himself, and his voice came out choked, strained, weak. span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: oblique; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"Weak./span Of course. He flushed red but shook his head, shook hair from his eyes, cleared his throat and spoke again. "The window."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"He set his eyes on the window, steeled his gaze and bit his lip as he braced himself against the pain in his knees and arms and rocked back until he was shaking on the heels of his boots – but his muscles were tired, exhausted, strained, span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: oblique; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"so tired/span, and before he could even blink he had fallen once more to his knees, and a cruel, agonizing pain shot through his skin like fire in his veins and he couldn't hold back the cry of pain that left his lips, reverberating around the small room and echoing once, twice, three times against the dark walls and his eardrums./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"He closed his mouth quickly, eyes darting around him in fear – all he saw were hushed outlines of furniture, a desk, but no chair, a dresser, span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: oblique; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"but no chair/span, and the door behind him. With wet cheeks, he rolled onto his back, stomach churning because the wood was now span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: oblique; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"sticky/span from his blood, and bent his knees away from the floor, hands crushed behind him./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"A tear slipped from his cheek. He wanted to go home./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Suddenly, measured but quick steps are ascending the stairs, and he pulled himself up carefully, and pushed himself to the corner – whatever for, he was still so exposed – but the wall against his back felt safe, secure, two halves on either side, a survey point of the entire room. He watched the door, breath coming out in harsh pants to which he couldn't subdue, not even if he tried, and he did try – so hard – but someone had heard him yell out, thought he was up to something span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: oblique; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"bad/span, as the policeman had snarled in his ear near hours ago, and was running up the stairs to him./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"The lock of the door rattled, the ominous sound of metal scratching against metal beating against his ribcage, but then the key was pulled out, the room quieted, and the door opened. In the thick fog of darkness, he could just make out a single figure in the doorway – the body turned behind him and brought light into the room: a large lit lantern. Wide, green eyes peered over him anxiously./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""…Eric?" Aaron asked nervously, voice slicing through the night but it wasn't unwelcome – no, the opposite – it was warm, comforting, and Eric felt more tears brimming in his eyes./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Aaron placed the lantern in the middle of the room, illuminating the shadows into objects and Eric's fear into resignation. He sighed and kneeled down in front of him, top teeth tugging on his bottom lip in brief hesitation. "I… heard you yell. You're injured. We should've taken care of that earlier."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Eric shook hair from his eyes once more and couldn't help the huff that left his lips, gaze hard. "I wouldn't be injured if you people hadn't tackled me to the ground."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Aaron pulled a small medical pouch from inside his jacket and set it gently on the ground. He unzipped it calmly, eyes downcast as he said, "You wouldn't have been tackled if you hadn't ran away."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"The chill left Eric's stare almost immediately – he looked down again and instead focused his gaze on his bloody pants. The silence between them extended until Aaron, sighing, and, oh, how much he sighed that night, moved closer to Eric with a small pair of scissors and an apology on the tip of his tongue. "I need to cut holes in your jeans – your knees, they're –"/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""I know," he whispered, and felt only shame when he nodded, span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: oblique; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"pleaded/span for help like a child with a small scrape or bruise. "Please."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Aaron's eyes softened and he began to work the blades through the fabric, fingers calculated and measured. The thread had to be pulled from his skin, and it stung, span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: oblique; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"it stung/span, but Eric turned his head away quickly and set his lips in a thin line – Aaron couldn't see him in pain, not now, not when he was already so vulnerable and weak; red rose to his cheeks and his chest shook. Aaron gently patted a warm paper towel to his skin, wiping the grime and blood away, and next came a putrid-smelling cream and gauze – the entire time neither said a single word. The room grew devoid of sounds with each passing second, save for Eric's strained breaths and Aaron's easy press and pull of medicine. But the silence stretched too long, and Eric's simpering pleads for help still hung in the air and hung in his ears, god, and its only shame he felt, so much shame. "I – Aaron," he stuttered out./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Aaron glanced up quickly to catch his eye before returning to the wrap in his hands. No response./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""I just got scared," Eric confessed quietly, gaze trained on Aaron's face. "Everything I told you, about Bethesda, about the Peace Corps, span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: oblique; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"everything, /spanI wasn't lying. Believe me. I wasn't lying."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Aaron sighed and set the wrap aside. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose and couldn't meet Eric's eyes. "Eric, I don't mean to be insensitive here, but I don't completely believe you."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""Why?" he demanded, voice gaining strength./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""The Brothers," Aaron shot back, soft eyes hardening and stunning Eric to silence. "You brought that damn span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: oblique; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"letter/span here – don't you have any idea what that means? Ah, I see," he laughed humorlessly, and Eric couldn't tear himself away from the sight. He'd seen Aaron collected, confused, amused – but never had he seen emotion like this. He seemed almost crazed. "You're just the messenger. What would you know, really?"/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Eric shifted forward, as far as he could with his hands behind his back. "Nothing! I don't know what's going on! I came from Bethesda – you saw that!"/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""Eric," he groaned, and the heat slowly deflated from his voice. "You ran away when we saw the letter. What am I supposed to think? Innocent people don't run away."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Eric felt a rise in his throat. "I was scared."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""We were, too. The town didn't know you, and when you suddenly became associated with the letter, with the span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: oblique; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"Brothers/span, everyone was reminded of what happened before – the first time the Brothers attacked us."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""Who are the Brothers?"/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Aaron shot him a disbelieving, almost span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: oblique; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"wary/span look, and his impossibly green eyes narrowed. "What kind of game are you playing?"/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Eric's head thumped against the wall in exasperation and he pulled his legs closer to his body, careful of the wrap and gauze across his knees. "There's no game – why can't you believe me when I say I don't know what's going on? In any case, it's only a damn letter. Why get so worked up?"/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""Last time we were contacted by the Brothers," Aaron began slowly, eyes still narrowed in suspicion, "we were sent a letter. It was attached to a Roamer's head and thrown over our wall. We didn't even have a day – to prepare, or leave, or I don't know! Not even… not even a day."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Aaron's eyes began to grow hazy, but he still looked to Eric, seeming to struggle through plaguing thoughts before Eric spoke softly again, "What happened then?"/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""We," Aaron started, sighing and straightening his shoulders, "we lost a lot of people. Luckily, we found Rick's group a bit before then, so he and Daryl and the rest of them helped us ward off most of the attacks. They haven't been back since. We thought they had given up."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""Rick?"/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""The police officer you saw earlier," Aaron said, and Eric felt a shudder rush through him. "He's a good man. He's dedicated to his family and to us, in everything that he does."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Eric shifted uncomfortably. Being associated with these tyrants left a sour taste in his mouth and a curl of disgust in his stomach, and he so wanted to tune out the images in his mind, but he couldn't help the words he spoke next, looking down at himself self-consciously, "Do I really look like those people? Do I look like I would hurt span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: oblique; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"anyone/span?"/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""I don't know span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: oblique; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"what/span to think anymore, Eric."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""If you really thought I was one of them, that I was dangerous," Eric said, "then you wouldn't have come up here. You wouldn't have bandaged my knees."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Aaron chuckled deeply, humorlessly. "I really want to believe you."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Eric's shoulders sagged and he seemed to curl into himself. "What's going to happen to me now?"/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""Well," Aaron said softly, words short and brief, as if his thoughts were elsewhere, "you'll meet with Deanna, our leader, and probably Rick and a few other town members. She wants to have a talk with you."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""W-will you be there?"/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Aaron ran a stressed hand over his face. "I don't know. Maybe. Probably."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Eric thought back to Bethesda, his friends – Hirano, Maria – the rest of the community, too, and their children, and his throat swelled in fear and sadness. He remembered, suddenly, a promise he had made to a little girl back at his community and he looked back up to Aaron. "The bag I came here with – do you still have it?"/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""Your bag? Yes, we have it."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""There's a stuffed animal, a dog, in my bag, and it has to go back to Bethesda. Please. I… I don't know how you guys do things here," Eric said, struggling over the rise in his throat, "but if I die –"/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""Eric, stop," Aaron demanded, suddenly looking apprehensive and angry. "We won't kill you."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""The council… they always told us about the horrors of the Outside," Eric said softly, images of town meetings and horrified gasps filling his mind. "The Brothers, whoever they are, are a good example. Right? And you think I'm a part of the Brothers."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"A steady beat a silence flowed through them./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""Please, get the stuffed animal back to Bethesda."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Aaron suddenly jumped to his feet, startling Eric. "Wait here," was all he said before rushing out of the room, leaving the lantern behind and the door open, but Eric didn't dare stand to leave. He was immobilized. After a minute, Aaron's heavy steps came bounding up the stairs once more, with Eric's backpack in his hand. He quickly fell to his knees in front of him, and pulled the backpack in between them. "This," he said, reaching into the bag and holding up a small, plain card, "this is card signed by the members of your community, Bethesda?"/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Eric felt a rush of relief wash over him, because Aaron said span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: oblique; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"your community, Bethesda/span, and no longer spoke suspiciously to him, and nodded. "It was a good luck present. That, some food, I think, and the stuffed dog."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Aaron read over the card quickly, the words Eric had read dozens of times on his journey already: span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: oblique; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"We will be counting down the days until you're back! Be safe out there. You're our hero!/span And just below that, were the names of every member of the community, in a myriad of different handwritings, penmanships, from a child's untidy scrawl to an elder's neat, small scratch./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""You… you're telling the truth," Aaron began slowly, eyes boring into Eric's. "You're telling the truth?"/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Eric nodded shakily, because it was all he could do without crying out of pure relief./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""How did that letter get into your hands, then?" Aaron asked, brows furrowing, and he seemed to speak only to himself when he added, softly, "Is it even from the Brothers?"/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""What time is it," Aaron murmured to himself, before pulling a leather watch from his pocket. "Eight. Okay. Not bad, we can do this."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""D-Do what?" Eric asked quietly, finally realizing his voice. Aaron glanced up to him, and his eyes were full of relief, like Eric's own, happiness, too, and determination. Eric had never seen such a pretty combination./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""Talk to Deanna. We have enough time to talk to Deanna, now, if we hurry," Aaron said, standing to throw Eric's backpack across his back and the card in his front shirt pocket. Eric looked up at him in shock, mouth open in a silent protest. "Come on, we can get you out of these ties soon enough. Then we can get you into a bed for the night."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"He reached down and gently pulled Eric to his feet. Eric wobbled on his shaky legs, hands still behind his back, but straightened best he could. "Aaron, wait, I can't –"/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: oblique; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"You/span don't have to. We'll do it together; I'll help you," he responded. He hunched over quickly to grab the lantern from the floor and attempted to step forward, but Eric stopped him, eyes wide./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"He said slowly, "Why are you doing this?"/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""You're innocent. I can't let you sit up here alone, cold, in pain, when you're innocent," he replied quickly, before moving once more. They had made it two steps before Eric stopped them again./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"span style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-weight: inherit; font-style: oblique; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: inherit; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;""Aaron/span," he stressed. "That's… that's not it. Why?"/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;"Finally Aaron stopped with him, and turned to look at him; their faces were suddenly so close, and Aaron's deep green eyes, and long lashes, stared into Eric's for a moment, and soon his face rose to a soft pink. "I need to make sure you're safe. I need… to see this through, to help you, because you – you're probably the most important person to me right now."/p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;" "I – okay," was all he managed to whisper. Aaron grinned at him, a brilliant smile showing his teeth and traces of hidden dimples. Eric's own pale cheeks began to mirror Aaron's red face and he looked away quickly, for a deep tickle in his stomach had flared up, and it was an old, familiar feeling he hadn't felt since before the world had ended – like a welcome embarrassment, like a warm affection deep inside of him./p  
p style="border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 15.12px; font-family: 'Lucida Grande', 'Lucida Sans Unicode', 'GNU Unifont', Verdana, Helvetica, sans-serif; vertical-align: baseline; list-style: none; margin: 1.286em auto; padding: 0px; line-height: 1.5; color: #2a2a2a;""Let's go," Aaron murmured softly, and he tightened his hold on Eric's waist, bracing them against what was to come./p 


End file.
